Dangerous Dreaming
by VictorianVulgar
Summary: Seven years later, and Sarah still dreams about the Labyrinth. Seven years later and the Goblin King still dreams of Sarah.
1. Prologue: In Dreams

**Prologue: In Dreams**

_"Judge of your natural character by what you do in your dreams."_

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

_- - -_

_The Labyrinth. For seven years, Sarah Williams has dreamed about little else. Her dreams are built on foundations of sand; they are shifting and senseless, their meaning suspended just beyond her reach, among the pinprick stars and milk-pale moon. They form meaningless patterns and are nonsensical in the way dreams always are, but they are almost always about the Labyrinth._

_ In some, she recalls the fear. It sits tight in her chest, like a rattlesnake wound into a coil and ready to spring. There is someone far too close to her, and although the grip on her is lazy and easily broken, she feels caged in his grasp. Trapped. This is something she thought she wanted but as she stares up, mouth slightly agape, into a pair of mismatched eyes she realizes that no, this isn't what she wants. She is a child, and she wants to escape. _

_ In some, she runs ceaselessly. Halls stretch endlessly before her, the options overwhelming. Tears prick at her eyelids as she makes wrong decision after wrong decision, hits wall after wall, turns and continues the frustrating jog. She has to find something, but her feet hurt and her knees ache and the clock she can't see won't stop its slow and maddening tick. Someone is laughing her. She's running out of time. _

_ Sometimes they aren't nightmares. Sometimes she is in a place recognizable as her childhood room, but somehow different. Grander in it's scope and scale. She faces her mirror, seeing only the blurry reflection of what is behind her. Two small figures and one enormous one. She feels safe, and loved, and wants to turn around to greet her friends. But she's scared if she does, they won't be there. She'll have lost them. She's content to stare into the mirror, the blur better than nothing._

_ But in some, she is grown. He is there, and the whole world is stiflingly hot and she aches, arching and grasping at warm skin and silken hair. He smiles that Cheshire-cat grin of his, and whispers something unintelligible in her ear, but she doesn't care, can't care what it was because she's gone utterly mad under his skillful fingers. The world is falling down around her and she doesn't give a damn. _

_ Most nights, Sarah Williams dreams about the Labyrinth. But what's important, what means the most, however, is the fact that Sarah Williams dreams at all. _


	2. Chapter I: Damsel in Distress

**I. Damsels in Distress**

"_Like all dreamers, I confuse disenchantment with truth."_

_-John Paul Sartre_

_- - -_

"Alright guys, today we're talking character archetypes. Can anyone tell me what an archetype _is_? Miss Williams?"

"Hmm?" Sarah Williams jerked her cheek off of her hand, shaking her head to clear it. She hadn't slept well the night before – strange dreams plagued her, as they always did. It was only her own misfortune that her favorite class, Folklore and Fairy Tales, took place at nine o'clock in the morning.

"Archetypes, Williams! At least pretend you're awake!" her professor barked, a good-natured grin on his face. Professor Thomas had taken a liking to Sarah early on in the year.

"Uh-" Sarah's foggy brain searched for a proper answer "-it's a model of a person, a stock character. Like, a prototype?" her inflection went up at the end of her sentence, turning it into a question. Professor Thomas flashed her a thumbs up.

"Very good, Miss Williams! Give me some examples of archetypes in folklore."

Beside Sarah, Maggie, her roommate, piped up. "Prince Charming, the Damsel in Distress, Tricksters, Fairy godmothers."

"Thank you, Miss Brandon! Now…" Professor Thomas moved the board and started listing on the whiteboard. Maggie elbowed Sarah, pointing at the four stick-figure drawings of archetypal fairy-tale characters. A fairy godmother with wings and a wand. A Damsel in a tower. A prince with a crown and a sword. A trickster with an evil grin. Sarah smothered a snigger, before drawing her own interpretation on the sheet of lined paper. A girl, with a sword and shield. She labeled it 'HEROINE'.

- - -

Sarah's next three-quarters of an hour were spent in a haze of princesses and wicked stepmothers, trading doodles with Maggie and trying to keep her eyes open. She loved the class, but the night previous she had been overwhelmed with nightmares. Running. Always running.

"Alright guys –" Professor Thomas clapped his hands loudly, jolting Sarah out of another reverie "pick any fairy tale you like and list for me any character archetypes you find. Detailed descriptions, please! See you all on Thursday and please, try to be awake." He smiled indulgently at Sarah who returned the expression with an apologetic grin of her own. She gathered up her books, stuffed them into her messenger book and jogged from her seat to catch up with Maggie.

"Whatcha gonna write about?"

Maggie shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know. I'll have to go through the ridiculous collection of Fairy Tale madness you've cluttered our shelves with. How about you?"

Sarah tilted her head to one side, thinking. "Something easy. I'm exhausted." As if on cue, she yawned hugely.

Maggie stopped and turned to Sarah, her blue eyes concerned. "I noticed. What's up with you?" Sarah tugged on Maggie's shoulder, trying to get her friend to keep moving.

"Weird dreams last night."

Maggie pursed her lips. "You always have weird dreams, Sarah," She seemed to shake off her concern and grinned with one corner of her mouth, "You should stop off in the psych classes, let them evaluate you. I'm sure they'll find you super fucked up and give you something that'll help you sleep."

Sarah snorted, and together they walked in comfortable silence towards the building in which they shared a dormitory. Scaling the steps to the third floor, Sarah stopped, frowning. "There were stairs in my dream."

"Random," Maggie commented, plucking at Sarah's sleeve, "My psych class could have a _field day_ with you,-" they continued up the stairs "-weird-ass stairs dreams and an obsession with fairy tales? They could name a syndrome after you." Maggie jammed the key into the lock, shouldering open the door, and stepping into the room they shared. And a strange room it was. It belonged to two very different people and reflected that, quite literally. One half of the room was violent, screaming pink (Maggie's) and one half was a soft, sea-foam green (Sarah's). Maggie's half of the room was wallpapered with posters of punk rock bands that no one had ever heard of because they second one hard of them, they became uncool. They were taped and push-pinned haphazardly to the fuchsia walls, along with photographs and various notes scrawled on bits of notebook paper.

Sarah's side reflected her personality as much as Maggie's reflected hers. An enormous bookshelf dominated one of her walls, crammed full of books. A few beautifully framed crayon drawings by Toby, each labeled 'Toby Williams' in large and colorful block letters, as if she'd forget. The pictures were the innocuous scrawlings of a very young child. Sarah and Toby holding hands. The time they'd gone to the zoo together. Their whole family in front of the house. A few of the drawings he'd done Sarah kept folded under her bed. Toby being held by a strange man. Creatures with pointed ears and large feet, with pig noses and claws and teeth. A room full of endless stairs.

"I'm gonna go through your collection, do you mind?" Asked Maggie, already running over the spines of Sarah's endless collection of fairy tales. Sarah nodded, not really listening, and fell into the pillowy softness of her bed. She was unconscious within minutes.

- - -

_ It was one of those dreams with no beginning. She found herself flung into the middle of it, no precursor, no easing in. She was standing at a window, staring out into a dusky lavender sky. The moon hung, pendulous and pale and impossibly huge. She was clothed only in it's light, out of the corner of her eye she could see her bare shoulder and if she bothered to look down, which her dream-self didn't, she would have seen her bare feet. _

_ There was someone behind her. She didn't mind it. _

_ "This isn't real," her dream-self muttered, having to work hard to form the syllables._

_ "Smoke and mirrors," he said, a hand lazily tracing up her arm, and then back down. She shivered, and not from the cold. _

_ She moved slowly, as though the world were made of honey, thick and sweet. She tried to turn to face him, but he was faster than she was, remaining behind her. "Smoke and mirrors," she repeated dumbly, now gazing at the interior of the room. As soon as her eyes fell on the bed, she was in it. The odd, jump-cut of her dream-world was not unexpected and she barely registered the change. His face was obscured by silken, silvery hair, threaded through with blue. She buried her fingers in it, tilted her head back as he kissed his way down the column of her throat. Her breath caught as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over, and she arched upwards, her dream-self pulling him closer. The edges of the fantasy blurred, and she pressed herself closer to him, thinking she could somehow stop it._

_ "Not real," she gasped as she was pushed over the edge, and her world exploded in a whirl of heat and feathers and she was pulled down into the darkness._

_- - -_

Sarah awoke, experiencing the odd sensation of having lost several hours without realizing it. Her room was much darker than it had been when she passed out. Maggie was sitting cross-legged on her bed, typing furiously.

Sarah yawned and flopped over into her stomach, tucking a pillow under her chin. "How long was I asleep?"

Maggie jerked her head up, realizing Sarah had awoken.

"You've been out for, like, four hours. I got you some lunch, want it?" She gestured to a paper bag on the desk. Sarah got up to investigate the food. "I'm almost done with my assignment for Thomas," Maggie said conversationally, staring back at her computer screen.

Sarah looked up, sandwich clutched in her hand. "Oh? What did you choose?"

Maggie poked around under her comforter before pulling out a small red book, and waving it in the air.

Sarah's heart skipped a beat, and she leapt off of her bed, eyes wild. "Where did you find that?"

Maggie was staring back at her computer screen, unaware of the expression of horror on Sarah's face and oblivious to her terrified tone of voice. "It was crammed at the back. You should take better care of your books, woman."

Sarah took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. "Could you please…not use that one." Her voice broke in the middle of the sentence, but Maggie didn't notice.

"Why not? It's full of stock characters, I have four pages worth so far! This Goblin King guy? He's like…Prince Charming _and _a trickster _and_ the Antagonist all at once. It's brilliant! And there's a damsel in distress, a changeling child – this is a goldmine for Thomas's class-" Maggie looked up at Sarah, catching her panicked face, "-why don't you want me using it?"

Sarah frantically tried to come up with an excuse. But her brain offered up nothing but a relentless, shrieking _NO, NO, NO, NO NO NO NONONONONONO-_

"Thomas is all over this kind of stuff. Words you can't say, a young, naïve heroine navigating a freaking labyrinth? How metaphorical can you get?"

Sarah felt a brief stab of resentment in the midst of her meltdown, at being called naïve, but mostly she just wanted to get that book away from Maggie and to hide it somewhere safer, somewhere no prying roommate could ever find it.

"Maggie, give me the book."

Maggie looked hurt, and through the haze of fear, Sarah felt a bit bad about this. She could probably be handling the situation a lot better if her entire body wasn't shaking and every self-preservation instinct was screaming. Maggie was one of the most lovely people She had ever had the privilege of meeting, but Sarah would gladly pummel her to get the book out of her hands.

"Why are you being so uppity today, Sarah?" Maggie asked, the tone of concern made Sarah feel even worse. Maggie got off her bed and handed Sarah the book, brow furrowed.

"Just tired." Sarah replied firmly, clutching the book to her chest.

"Maybe you should see someone about it," Maggie suggested, trying to inject some lightness back into the conversation with her cheerful tone of voice, despite the cryptic advice. "Come on. Enjoy your sandwich and I'll find a different book."

Relieved, Sarah sank back onto her bed, heart still pounding. "I'm sorry, I _have _been kind of bitchy lately."

"Yeah, you have-" Maggie chided, but there was humor in her voice. She placed a dramatic hand on her forehead. "I wish the goblins would come and take you away, like they do in the story-"

Sarah choked on her bite of sandwich, pretty sure her heart had stopped.

Maggie backspaced on her laptop, oblivious, giggling to herself at what she thought was a funny reference to the book they'd just been fighting over, "-right now."


	3. Chapter II: Lies, Dreams, and Soup

**II: Lies, Dreams, and Soup**

"_Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top."_

_-Virginia Woolf_

_No._

_No._

_Oh, god fuck, NO. No, no, no, this can't be happening. Maggie can't beat the Labryinth, I barely beat the Labyrinth and I'm such an idiot for not destroying that stupid book while I got the chance, and Oh God NO, NO, NO, NO-_

"Sarah?"

Sarah realized three things all at once.

**One)** There was no thunder, no lightning, no glittersplosion, no goblins, and definitely no Jareth in her dorm room.

**Two) **She was, in fact, still _in_ her dorm room.

**Three)** She had dropped her sandwich.

"Sarah, honey, are you okay?"

Maggie had gotten up off of her bed and was staring, wide-eyed

at her catatonic room-mate. Heart hammering, hands shaking, Sarah sat slowly on the edge of her bed. Nothing had happened. She was still in her cramped room with her mildly insane room-mate, and sure there was a sandwich on the floor, but who cared because _it hadn't worked-_

"I'm fine," Sarah blurted awkwardly, "I just, uh, spaced out there for a second."

Maggie frowned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Sarah wasn't sure what to say. Telling Maggie not to mention goblins again was probably going to make her seem even more nuts than Maggie already thought she was. Sarah was infinitely grateful for Maggie's compliance with her odd requests - ever since their first week as roomies, when Sarah had asked her to stop wearing peach-scented body-spray and requested that she take down her M.C. Escher poster with a frenzied look in her brown eyes. But this might be taking it too far. Then again, if she said nothing of it, Maggie might repeat the phrase at some other time.

Sarah made a decision. "Yeah Mags, I'm fine. But I did drop my sandwich. Want to go get some dinner?"

The yawning pit of dread hadn't yet left her stomach, but Sarah wanted to get out of the room and away from that little red book as fast as possible.

"That sounds great. Let me get my coat." Maggie hauled herself off of the bed and went to rummage in the closet. Moving swiftly, Sarah grabbed the book off of her room-mates bed and stuffed it under her own pillow.

Stepping out into the dusky twilight, embrella overhead to protect against the light rain, Sarah tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. If anything, this little adventure had proved something she'd been trying to force herself to believe for a while now.

_The Labyrinth wasn't real. It had been a dream. _

Sarah had been trying to convince herself of this fact for seven years. Every odd occurrence could be explained. Toby's drawings weren't necessarily of the Goblin King, and the room of stairs. They could just as easily be the crude scratching of a toddler unsure of how to draw his father, or copying the Escher poster Sarah used to have in her room.

_My fear is irrational. It is silly to be afraid of a fairy tale world. Maggie should be allowed to wish all she damn well wants, and I will never go anywhere. It had never happened. It was the active imagination of my overly-dramatic fourteen year old self._

Sarah told this to herself over and over again as she and Maggie walked to Noodle Temple, a Japanese restaurant a few blocks from their dorm. It helped with the nausea and the shaking, and by the time they walked through the double doors, Sarah felt her stomach rumble. The hostess seated them in the corner and took their food orders. Maggie dipped one of her chopsticks in her drink, drawing a thin, wet line across the tabletop.

"So, what's up with these dreams of yours, Sarah? Come on, I'm taking a psych class, I'm totally qualified to interpret."

Sarah grimaced, not particularly wanting to revisit the subject. _If it was all only a dream, what are you afraid of?_ The nasty little voice inside her head taunted. She took a deep breath and released it in a long sigh. "Well, in the one I have most often, I'm dancing-"

"Mm-hmm." Maggie said, with her best therapist nod.

"With a guy."

Maggie wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Is he hot?"

"Not the point," Sarah squawked defensively, "Well, actually it is. He's hot but he's – older than me. Like, a lot older. More than ten years older, actually."

Sarah wasn't about to guess at Jareth's age, but she could bet he was at least a decade her elder. _Probably more like centuries, he's just a dream , shut up brain!_

"Sarah, you're twenty-one."

"In the dream I'm fourteen."

"Oh, ew."

"Anyway, so in the dream I'm at this masquerade ball, and at first I can't find this guy, but I know he's there. And I'm fourteen but everyone else is grown up. I feel-" Sarah paused, searching for the right word "-lost. Really lost. Like everything is so far above my head because I'm a kid. And I keep thinking I see him out of the corner of my eye and I want to find him so badly. I keep thinking that I can, well, handle it." Sarah watched the muscles in Maggies face contract, and knew her friend was choking back the inevitable '_that's what she said'._

"So you're at a party you're too young to be at where everyone is wearing mask searching for a guy you can't find?"

"Pretty much. But then I do find him. And I realize – I don't want this _at all._ I thought I could be an adult and deal with the consequences of having this guy be interested in me, but I just totally can't. And then, uh, I break it."

"Break it?"

"With a chair."

Maggie sat back from the table, allowing the hostess to move in with two enormous steaming bowls of Udon noodle soup. For a moment she pretended to stroke an imaginary beard before picking up her chopsticks and plunging them decisively into her broth.

"That doesn't even need interpretation. You interpreted it yourself. It's a situation you're completely unprepared to deal with, and you try to confront it head on only to realize you have no idea what to do."

Sarah snorted, picking up a thick, doughy noodle with her chopsticks. "I really think it's just about me not wanting to have sex with the Goblin King when I'm fourteen-"

She froze, and Maggie jabbed her chopsticks triumphantly at Sarah, sputtering around a mouthful of noodle. "Goblin King? Like from that Labyrinth book? Is that why you freaked out? You've been having _sexy_ dreams about whatshisface?"

"Jareth. And no. I didn't freak out, and so what if I'm dreaming about fictional characters? It happens all the time. And the dreams are decidedly _un-sexy_, thank you very much." She slurped down a noodle for emphasis, trying to ignore the heat that suffused her entire body when she thought about her _other_ dreams. The ones she wasn't telling Maggie about. Like the one she'd had earlier that day.

"Whatever you say," a completely unconvinced Maggie muttered slurping at a spoonful of her soup and looking knowingly over the top of her spoon. Sarah rolled her eyes, and tucked a noodle into her mouth.

Maggie lifted a noodle, eying it suspiciously. "Ever noticed Udon noodles kind of look like worms?"

Sarah burst out laughing, and put goblins and masquerades out of her mind once and for all.

_That night, she dreamed of the maze. _

_All the walls and turns looked exactly alike. Sarah threw herself around corner after corner, only to find dead ends. Every blank block of sandstone taunted her, and the sun sank lower and lower in the violet sky. _

"_You're running out of time." A voice that was honey and velvet and razor blades all at once whispered and she wheeled around, blinded by her own hair and the piercing light of the setting sun. A clock she was sure hadn't been on the wall before began to chime. The hour hand swung around in slow, lazy circles. She watched in horror as her time ticked away._

"_No."_

"_No?"_

"_You can't do that. It's not fair. I had more time."_

_She starts off running again, feeling tears prick behind her eyes but she battles them back. She won't give him the satisfaction. She hits another dead end, running into it full tilt, and a dull ache spreads through her body. But she has to keep going, keep running and suddenly-_

_She stands on the edge of a precipice. Below her, a narrow set of stairs leading into mist. She's done this before. She's stood this before. She knows how it ends._

_She jumps._

_But this time she does not slow, and the world does not come apart and she does not end up safe in her bedroom._

_All she does is fall._

Sarah woke with a jolt, breathing heavily. Staring wide-eyed into the innocuous darkness, she tried to slow the rapid beating of her heart.

_Just a dream. Everything is just a dream._

She turned to look at her clock. Quarter past three in the morning. Sarah sighed and swung her legs over the side of her bed, pushing herself with some difficulty into a sitting position. Her limbs felt leaden with sleep despite the frantic pounding within her chest. Outside the window, rain poured, hammering against the windows. It looked like she was in for a miserable morning. Nine a.m. class in the rain sounded like just about the worst possible way to spend her Thursday.

Looking over at the snoring ball that was Maggie, Sarah mustered a smile and stood up, wobbled a little, and stumbled to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Lightning flashed and the low rumble of thunder reverberated through the foundations of the apartment. Rehydrated, Sarah padded back towards her bed, stopping briefly at the vanity to look at herself.

Pale, freckled, with large eyes and an upturned nose. A thick mane of chocolate brown hair which was currently a tousled mess. Bruise-colored dark circles, the result of her nightmares. Sarah pulled a few faces for her own amusement, then looked down at the desktop.

Her faint smile faded away, replaced with a look of utter horror.

On the desk, among scattered paper and pencils, was a single white feather.

**AUTHORS NOTE:** Part of this chapter is loosely based on the beautiful bit of art 'Here's The Day…' by Pika-la-Cynique (check her out on Deviantart or her on FF for some amazing Labyrinth art/fic). I removed the crystal from the scene and had it just be the owl feather for ambiguity reasons. I promise to get to Jareth. I really do.


	4. Chapter III: Negotiation

Chapter III. Negotiation

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

-Alfred Lord Tennyson

For a long moment Sarah stared at the feather, her mind going a million miles a minute. _It's not necessarily an owl feather. It could have blown in from outside __**except the window hasn't been open all night**__ or it could be from one of our pillows __**you sleep with a tempur-pedic, idiot**__ or it could be from one of Maggie's silly feather boas __**since when did she have a white feather boa?-**_

She forced herself to breathe, trying to block out her shrieking conscious. The room was dark and quiet, save for the soft splatter of the rain and Maggie's heavy breathing. Nothing was going to happen. _Breathe, just breathe…_

The sudden rumble of thunder cracked across Sarah's shattered nerves and her knees gave out. She crumpled to the floor, shaking, heart palpitating like a terrified rabbit. The floor was wonderfully solid underneath her, and she gripped the plush of their carpet, trying to convince her sleep-addled brain that everything was fine and thunder was nothing to be afraid of. There was absolutely nothing to be afraid of.

Except for the pair of eyes staring at her from under the bed.

A scream scrambled up Sarah's throat, but it was too late, far too late. Strong hands gripped her ankles and she was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

_Thump._

- - -

There was warm stone under her hands. And hip. And face. Sarah groaned, pushing herself up onto her hands. Her head was spinning, and for a few moments, confusion cluttered her thoughts. A feather. Lightning. Hands. Eyes.

Her eyes flickered open.

Amber light filtered in through high, stained windows. Grooved cobblestones dug into the heels of her hands. Sarah could feel a string of straw in her hair. She stared down at the stone under her spread fingers, not wanting to look up.

"Hello Sarah."

_Shit._

She knew that voice. She knew that voice from every dream she'd had for the past seven years. She knew it from the thirteen frustrating hours she'd spent in the Underground and it still sent shivers down her spine. Sarah tilted her head up, every fiber of her being shrieking. And there he stood, just as imposing as he'd been seven years ago. Tall, slender, cruel and beautiful, Jareth, King of the Goblins stood over her, black-clad and impossible.

"No."

Jareth quirked an already upswept eyebrow. "No?"

She got up slowly, deliberately, hating the way his eyes felt on her. He eyes her unashamedly, mismatched gaze sweeping over her curves, horrible smirk firmly in place. She took a shaking breath, but spoke with strange clarity. "Send me home."

His smile stretched wider. "I'm afraid you're in no position to make demands, Sarah."

She set her jaw. "Send me **home**, Jareth."

"What's said is said-"

Sarah finally exploded. The fear and rage that had been building inside of her finally found release. "I don't CARE what was SAID. SEND ME THE FUCK HOME, JARETH. NOW!"

He watched her scream with an expression of mild amusement. She hated him all the more for being so relaxed in the face of what could only be called a meltdown. "There are rules I have to follow," he replied simply.

"You **MAKE** the fucking rules, you ass! Send me **HOME**!"

Her fists were clenched so tightly she could feel her nails digging into her palms. She'd read somewhere that causing yourself pain while experiencing completely unrelated pain would help balance the two out. She wasn't sure if physical pain could be used to balance out mental pain, but it felt good. Felt real. It was something she could control. Her rational mind had completely shut down, and she was screaming and blathering at a figure from a fucking story who shouldn't be real but at least she was still the master of her own body.

"You've been wished away to me, Sarah. She said the words, you heard her yourself. There is…procedure that must be followed." he paused, turned away and settled himself lazily in his throne. He looked for all the world like a big cat, draped over his seat, predatory look in his odd eyes.

Sarah stood her ground, feeling rooted to the spot. "I'm not going to play your games, Jareth."

He flashed her a grin, giving her a brief glimpse of his sharp teeth, "It's not you that has to play _my games_, is it?"

Sarah stood, stunned. It was true. Maggie had wished her away, now Maggie would have thirteen hours to run the Labyrinth. "Where is she?" Sarah asked cautiously, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"Still asleep, in the charming little room you share," Jareth tapped his foot against the arm of his throne. "I thought I'd offer you a deal before we woke her up. It's only fair."

"No deals. I'm not messing around with you, you're a liar and a cheat."

Jareths eyes flashed. He pushed himself out of his chair, stalking closer. His movements were graceful, feline even, and Sarah shuddered as he moved closer. "Do you think your little friend can solve my labyrinth? Do you think she'll be as lucky as you were? If she fails, you'll be here forever." He put such horrible emphasis on the word _forever_ that Sarah physically balked. He seemed pleased he'd been able to affect her so. "Do you think she'll refuse my offer? I can show her her dreams, Sarah, and not everyone is as stubborn as you."

A pit yawned open in Sarah's stomach as her tortured mind considered her options. Should Maggie refuse Jareth's offer, she'd still have to complete the Labyrinth. Somehow, Sarah couldn't imagine her friend surviving the first few obstacles, let alone actually winning. Sarah herself had beaten Jareth on pure luck and because of the friends she'd made along the way. If Maggie didn't make the same decisions, could she even find her way into the maze itself?

"What's your offer?"

Jareth appeared to ignore her, but stepped closer, and with a flourish of his hand, conjured one of his crystal balls. Sarah stared at it nervously. "Speaking of dreams," Jareth drawled, examining the orb closely, "Why don't we have a look at some of yours, shall we?"

Sarah could do nothing but stand in mortified silence as the depths of the crystal ball materialized into moving shapes. She recognized her own face, eyes closed, lip caught between her teeth, ecstasy in every feature, and over her the familiar silvery head of hair of the Goblin King who watched her, smirking at the horror in her eyes.

"Stop it," Sarah managed to choke out, tearing her eyes away. Jareth tucked the ball into the pocket of his coat, standing far too close for comfort, and folded his arms. His expression was one of a cat who'd just caught a mouse. Accomplished, and deeply smug.

"I'm sorry to tell you I've been watching your dreams for some time now, Sarah."

"You had no right-"

He ignored her. "And so I have a proposition for you. Your friend can run my Labyrinth and fail, and I know she will. I won't make it easy for her as I did for you."

As irritated and angry and embarrassed as Sarah was, she couldn't help but splutter "EASY?"

Jareth continued to ignore her. "Or, you can remain here. For as long as I see fit."

"No dice. As long as you see fit could be a hundred years."

Jareth shrugged. "It's quite a bit longer than eternity. Which is how long you'd be forced to stay should your friend fail in my labyrinth."

Sarah knew he was manipulating her, and she wasn't about to fall for it. "Jareth, I'm not going to make a deal with you. I'm not stupid. Send me home. If you recall, YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME."

Faster than she thought possible, he was behind her, hissing in her ear. _"_You're** wrong**. You've been wished away to me, so Miss Williams, I'm afraid to tell you that I **do** have power over you and I mean to exercise it."

Sarah leapt away from him, darting across the room and maneuvering so her back was to the wall. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible. "NO. I'm not a kid, she didn't even say the fucking words right. Jareth, SEND ME HOME."

"You can throw all the temper tantrums all you want. What's said is said and you can take my offer or leave it. Unless-" with another burst of inhuman speed, he'd pinned her to the wall, hands easily capturing her wrists and bringing them up beside her head. She squirmed against him, but couldn't stop him from lowering his head to whisper hotly in her ear "Unless you wish to re-enact any of the charming scenarios from your dreams. You've grown up Sarah, don't think I haven't noticed, and if your subconscious has anything to say, it's that you _want me_."

Momentarily stunned by his offer, Sarah couldn't fend off the thrill of lust that washed over her body. As bad as the situation was and as trapped as she felt, she couldn't deny that having him pressed up against her like that, whispering to her in a voice that was obscenity incarnate, was more than just agitating. She quickly beat her hormones down, allowing them to be replaced with righteous anger. She struggled, but couldn't break his iron grip, and eventually sagged against the wall, glaring at him from beneath her curtain of dark hair. "Get OFF!"

"A month."

"What?" she asked, exasperated.

"You were wished away here, and I should keep you forever. But I'm feeling _generous_. A month."

_A month? A month wasn't that bad. _

"No re-ordering time."

"I swear." He pushed away from the wall and Sarah scuttled away, to stand in the middle of the floor, where there was no way he could pounce on her again.

"What's the catch?" She asked nervously.

"No catch. You simply stay here, do what I tell you, and when your time is up, you are free to leave."

"I don't believe you."

"It's this or forever, Sarah. Take it or leave it, my patience is running out."

Sarah stared at the floor. Her options were limited. In fact, she didn't have any options. She was stuck in the Underground with a man so infuriating he made her skin crawl. But a month didn't seem too bad. She could probably spend a lot of it making his life a living hell. And although she couldn't help but remember his hot breath on her ear and the image in the crystal ball, she straightened her back and set her jaw resolutely.

"Fine. A month."

"Done." Jareth moved to one of the arched doorways and stopped, motioning for Sarah to follow him through it. As she passed him, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close to growl in her ear, "I've seen your dreams, Sarah Williams, and don't think for a second that by the end of this month they won't come true."

Another stab of lust weakened her knees but she kept her eyes ahead, clamping her mouth shut. Had this been another time, and on her own terms, she'd have some witty reply, but right now all she had going for her was her fear and anger and out-of-control hormones. He swept past her, and she thought she heard him chuckling to himself. Beating back the tears she'd kept at bay since arriving, she followed him.

Sarah Williams was back in the Underground.

- - -

**Authors Note:** Comments are like crack to me. That is all.


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